


no need to tread carefully

by pixiepuff (colourmecrunchy)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmecrunchy/pseuds/pixiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People think Colin's not the possessive one.</p><p>And if this isn't somehow Bradley-related, then they are actually right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no need to tread carefully

**Author's Note:**

> _(written before this year's SDCC when Bradley wasn't even there)_

Colin's not the possessive one. He really isn't. His levels of trust and devotion are otherworldly and he's heard more than once he's loyal to a fault.

He respectfully disagrees, you see. Because besides everything else, he's also an amazing judge of character. And if he decides someone's earned his trust, it takes pretty much something as severe as killing a unicorn in front of him to make him doubt that person, and to wake up second thoughts of confusion and dilemma in him.

Ergo he trusts Bradley with his life. (The killing of the unicorn was scripted and no animal was actually harmed during the filming, so it's all good.)

But that isn't to say Colin doesn't have his _limits_. Which he does, you see. Okay, so unlike Bradley Colin doesn't have the need to rub his scent all over him, repeatedly, relentlessly, marking him as his own and growling words or even just sounds of threat when someone makes the mistake of coming too close - but he _does_ like to feel in charge of his own life. And since Bradley happened with this weird, overwhelming emotion that had all the predispositions of love, everything has spun wildly out of control and became his life - and it means Colin now also needs some control over _this_ , too.

He's usually more than happy to let Bradley guide the way because he knows him, he feels how Bradley needs it for his own peace of mind, but there are times, moments, when Colin feels like turning into something green and pissed off - and no, not an angry leprechaun but rather the incredible Hulk - and tell everyone to just _back off_ before he fucks them all up.

He's not really sure how he'd do that, seeing a 12 year old girl has a few dozen pounds of flesh _and_ evil on him, but he can be vicious, and ruthless, at least with his words if he fights for something of his, and - _yes_ , this is one of those times.

He's never particularly ecstatic when they need to go promote the show abroad. The States are always a special kind of a trip with fans there having a different idea of personal space and respect (not to menion endless _Merthur_ ribbing), no filter, no concept of boundaries and okay, these are all the qualities _Bradley_ also possesses but Bradley only directs them at _him_ , see, and Colin counts them as Bradley's greatest virtues - but when a horde of fans decides to stake the claim on Bradley just like that, Colin's ears itch so badly he feels they're gonna start spinning and he'll take off any minute now.

 

He leaves the panel, apparently done - _so_ done - with all the craziness of it and goes for a walk. He's glad he still looks like a bloke next door in his casual clothes, even _less than that_ , he reminds himself, and shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie when he exits the place.

The long walk dissipated his anger somewhat, and he's glad he had some time to cool off. He knows if he'd stayed, his nerves would begin an argument that wouldn't do any good to either of them - he wasn't angry at _Bradley_ , but he'd be the only one there and thus quite unfairly at the receiving end of Colin's frustration.

When he enters his hotel room - they still keep up the pretense, they get separate rooms even if everyone, and by everyone he means _everyone_ , even the least important assistant of an assistant who brings coffee to the least important camera bloke knows they'll share one of the rooms everywhere always - he means to have a shower and some tea and wish for a cigarette, and then eat a carrot instead because smoking is _so_ bad and he knows it -

 _Oh_. He doesn't get to do any of that, and in a few moments he forgets he ever intended to, because Bradley is sprawled on their bed on his back, sound asleep, perfectly still and peaceful and all too innocent-looking for someone who can make Colin half-hard by just breathing in his ear for a second.

 

He looks angelic and Colin isn't sure when he's decided on this, but he knows that _angelic_ has to go, there is no place for innocence and purity in their bed, not after Bradley's been hauled away by fans, and Colin skillfully dodged _his_ group of followers. He pauses by the bed, assessing the sight and the possibilities; there's always so many different ways and scenarios that it makes him dizzy sometimes - when Bradley isn't the one to set the pace and is all docile and waiting and pliant, Colin feels the unprecedented rush of want because he knows it's all his to take and hold in whichever way he deems necessary and right and he wants to do it _all_ at once, the slow, caressing kind of touching along with the fast, eager, impatient strokes and gropes.

There's no thinking this time, no waging the options. He wants Bradley and needs him now and he needs to be the one to make him fall apart, every last little bit shattering under his hands and afterwards Bradley needs to see it's Colin who assembles him, who brings him back, who loves him and worships him more than all of his fans put together.

He lies down next to sleeping Bradley and grins unabashedly at the expanse of chest in front of him. Bradley never sleeps with a shirt on, _never_ (when they started filming Merlin and it was time for their first "bedroom scene", Bradley up and went and took his tunic off and hopped onto the mattress like it was in the fucking script, which it _wasn't_ , okay, because Colin _checked_ \- and the sight alone was almost enough for Colin to whimper and faint right there and then) and Colin is so, so grateful for it.

He noses along Bradley's clavicle, relishing in the sweet, warm skin under his mouth and plants kisses along the whole stretch of skin from one shoulder to the other. Bradley sniffs in sleep and murmurs something but doesn't wake up, _not yet_ , Colin thinks mischievously, _I know what'll wake you_ , and slowly slides his hand from Bradley's jeans-clad knee up and to the inside of his thigh. His mouth latches onto his favourite bit of skin right in the hollow of Bradley's neck and sucks lightly, not wanting to stir him just yet and hums his approval. Bradley's skin still tastes like sunshine and rain and the red skittles and Colin loves it, it's _Eau de Pillock_ , he's a pillock but he's _Colin's_ pillock, so that makes it all okay.

Colin's hand slides, heavy, up and down the insides of Bradley's thigh and then up across the hips. He deliberately misses his primary target and wonders at his own self-control because even 10 minutes ago, all he wanted to do if presented with the possibility was to pin Bradley against some surface - wall, wardrobe, fence that kept the fans away, it didn't matter - and fuck him stupid. Now, he's calmed somewhat, at least enough to cherish the sleeping man next to him and to make this last a little bit longer. He moves to the other side of Bradley's neck and sucks again, harder, with his hand resting hot in the crease of Bradley's hip.

A slow, soft moan meets his ears then, and the chest under him expands with air.

"Wha-"

"Shhh."

Colin kisses up Bradley's neck and pauses when they're face to face.

"Let me."

It's all he says before his hand fleetingly slides across Bradley's crotch - oh, there we go, _hello_ \- and Bradley sucks in air, shakily, and spreads his legs a tiny amount. Colin licks across his lips and his hand returns the soft pressure from the opposite direction now. It's not enough to satisfy, but more than plenty to make Bradley flush and gasp, when his black, lust-blown eyes stare back at him.

"Colin," he moans as only one of Colin's fingers presses down hard all along the length of the zipper, and he drags his finger up and down heavily, feeling heat radiating through the fabric of Bradley's jeans.

" _Colin's_ ," he corrects Bradley, and then cups his crotch possessively, as if in explanation.

"What-"

"Mine," he murmurs against his lips, before he kisses him with tongue and teeth, so absolutely filthy that Bradley shakes under his arms. His fingers deftly open the button and slide down the zipper and rubs, again and again, this time over the tight boxer-briefs that are getting slightly damp in one spot in particular.

Bradley keens and nods, one of his hands coming up to hover above Colin's where he's teasing at him, slowly, patiently, as if he's pondering over a particularly odd entry for a cross-word puzzle and Bradley lets out a small noise of urgency, needing his touch more than anything.

Colin stills his hand and stays that way until Bradley finally opens his eyes and looks back up at him, confused and so turned on it seems he can't really focus on one thing for too long.

"I want you to _understand_ -" Colin makes sure their gaze never breaks, but he slides the heel of his hand down on Bradley's cock, hard, for good measure, "- that no matter _where_ we go", and then he slips his hand inside the underwear and wraps his fingers around Bradley, the skin so hot and silky that Colin's breath stutters a tiny bit and he knows his own self-control is waning quickly, "or _what_ we do, or who we _talk_ to, you're mine."

His grip seems to get tighter after every word and Bradley is having trouble still locking his eyes with Colin, it feels he wanted to moan and throw his head back long moments ago but he doesn't, as if for some reason he's unable to, under the relentless scrutiny and urgent words and sounds. Colin lowers his head, still trying to have his eyes fixed on Bradley's, and with lips only a breath away from Bradley's, he continues.  
"I want to be the one you think of, when you meet other people in business." He squeezes Bradley's cock and continues to stroke him, hard but slow and Bradley's finally allowed to close his eyes and thrust back into his hand. "When you shake hands with producers, I want you to remember you got me off just hours before with that _same_ hand." Bradley moans into his mouth and Colin kisses, quick, presses his lips against Bradley's, and they're warm and trembling, just like the flesh under his hands. "When you take photos with fans, I want you to be reminded how you took photos of us in bed on our getaway weekend."

Colin's hand speeds up but doesn't lessen in tightness and Bradley's back arches off the bed, his chest heaving and his mouth wording something that doesn't seem like anything that could be expressed with words anyway, and his hands are gripping Colin's biceps now, a steel-like grip that might hurt at other times but right now Colin is relishing in it, bathing in the possession of Bradley's fingers just like Bradley is coming undone beneath him in his.

"And when fans _touch_ you, touch you _anywhere_ , I want you to know _I'm_ the one who knows how to touch you best," and with that, he kisses him again, rough, licking into his mouth while his hand starts stroking Bradley's cock without preamble, no finesse, fast and sure and twisting a bit on every upstroke and Bradley arches again as he comes, he arches impossibly high, lifting them both off the bed, moaning into his mouth, shaking and thrumming with energy that seems to be coming off of him in waves and straight into Colin.

Colin closes his eyes and exhales loudly himself, feeling himself tremble, being impossibly hard from the start of this whole ordeal, but he can't reach and he refuses to rub himself on Bradley's thigh like some teenager, when Bradley's hand comes out of nowhere and grips him fast and steady over his jeans.

"Colin," Bradley gasps and squeezes, and Colin's forehead hits Bradley's bare shoulder as he feels his own orgasm looming overhead, "you needn't say _anything_. Always, _always_ , til you want me," and Colin whines and bites down at the sweet and sweaty shoulder and is met with a mental image of red skittles again for the briefest moment, as Bradley grips him impossibly hard and rubs along the middle of his ass over Colin's jeans with his other hand, "I am fucking _yours_."

Colin sobs, actually sobs out his release and shudders in Bradley's arms for what feels like ages. There's faint buzzing in his ears and he can't move, not by himself, anyway, so he feels he needs to prompt Bradley a little. Before he says anything though, he almost chokes on emotion, because of _all_ bloody things, Bradley seems to be stroking his hair over and over and kissing the top of his head, so all he can actually manage - as opposed to the long coaxing sweet-talk he's planned - is, "Help me get in the shower and I'll fuck you afterwards."

He thinks he's gonna faint for the second time this hour when he feels himself be hoisted up and dragged over to the bathroom in a matter of seconds and needs to lean against the wall for balance. Bradley's already nearly naked anyway and Colin watches as he goes for Colin's shirt, when Bradley sees his own reflection in the mirror.

"Oh bloody _hell_ , Cols."

"What?"

Bradley presses his fingers tentatively against his neck and gapes at him.

"How am I gonna hide the bite marks?"

"Wear a high neck sweater?"

Colin just shrugs, because he really doesn't care who sees, and pulls down his jeans along with his underwear. When he straightens up, Bradley is looking at him with a hungry expression that has no right to be there only some ten minutes after what's just happened, with his adam's apple bobbing up and down when he states, his voice hoarse,

"Actually, _fuck_ everything," and pounces.

 


End file.
